Cleo. Though age from folly could not give me freedom,

It does from childishness.: Can Fulvia die?

Ant. She's dead, my queen:

Look here, and at thy sov'reign leisure read
The garboils she awak'd; at the last, best:
See, when, and where she dy'd.

Cleo. O most false love!

Where be the sacred vials thou shouldst fill
With sorrowful water? Now I see, I see,
In Fulvia's death, how mine shall be receiv'd.
Ant. Quarrel no more, but be prepared to know
The purposes I bear; which are, or cease,
As you shall give the advices: By the fire
That quickens Nilus' slime, I go from hence
Thy soldier, servant; making peace, or war,
As thou affect'st.

Cleo. Cut my lace, Charmian, come;-
But let it be; I am quickly ill, and well,
So Antony loves.

Ant. My precious queen, forbear;

And give true evidence to his love, which stands
An honourable trial.

Cleo. So Fulvia told me.

I prythee turn aside, and weep for her;
Then bid adieu to me, and say, the tears
Belong to Egypt. Good now, play one scene
Of excellent dissembling; and let it look

Like perfect honour.

Ant. You'll heat my blood; no more.

Cleo. You can do better yet; but this is meetly.
Ant. Now, by my sword,-

Cleo. And target, still he mends;

But this is not the best.-Look, pr'ythee, Charmian,

How this Herculean Roman does become

The carriage of his chafe.

Ant. I'll leave you, lady.

Cleo. Courteous lord, one word.

Sir, you and I must part, but that's not it:
Sir, you and I have lov'd,—but there's not it;
That you know well: Something it is I would,-
O, my oblivion is a very Antony,

And I am all-forgotten.

Ant. But that your royalty

Holds idleness your subject, I should take you
For idleness itself.

Cleo. "Tis sweating labour,

To bear such idleness so near the heart
As Cleopatra this. But, sir, forgive me ;
Since my becomings kill me, when they do not
Eye well to you: Your honour calls you hence;
Therefore be deaf to my unpity'd folly,

And all the gods go with you! Upon your sword
Sit laurel'd victory! and smooth success
Be strew'd before your feet!

Ant. Let us go. Come;

Our separation so abides, and flies,

That thou, residing here, go'st yet with me,

And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee.
Away.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Rome.

A Room in Casar's House.

Enter OCTAVIUS CESAR, LEPIDUS, and their Trains.

Oct. You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth know, It is not Cæsar's natural vice to hate

One great competitor: From Alexandria

This is the news—He fishes, drinks, and wastes
The lamps of night in revel: is not more manlike
Than Cleopatra; nor the queen of Ptolemy

More womanly than he: hardly gave audience, or Vouchsaf'd to think he had partners: You shall find there

A man, who is the abstract of all faults

That all men follow.

Lep. I must not think there are

Evils enough to darken all his goodness:
His faults, in him, seem as the spots of heaven,
More fiery by night's blackness; hereditary,
Rather than purchased; what he cannot change,
Than what he chuses.

Oct. You are too indulgent: Let us grant, it is not Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy;

To give a kingdom for a mirth; to sit

And keep the turn of tipling with a slave;
To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet
With knaves that smell of sweat: say, this becomes
him;

(As his composure must be rare indeed,

Whom these things cannot blemish) yet must Antony
No way excuse his foils, when we do bear
So great weight in his lightness: If he fill'd
His vacancy with his voluptuousness,

Full surfeits, and the dryness of his bones
Call on him for't: but, to confound such time,—
That drums him from his sport, and speaks as loud
As his own state and ours,-'tis to be chid

As we rate boys; who, being mature in knowledge,
Pawn their experience to their present pleasure,
And so rebel to judgment.

Enter a MESSENGER.

Lep. Here's more news.

Mess. Thy biddings have been done; and every

hour,

Most noble Cæsar, shalt thou have report
How 'tis abroad. Pompey is strong at sea;
And it appears, he is belov'd of those
That only have fear'd Cæsar: to the ports
The discontents repair; and men's reports
Give him much wrong'd.

Oct. I should have known no less:

It hath been taught us from the primal state,
That he which is, was wish'd until he were;

And the ebb'd man ne'er lov'd, till ne'er worth love,
Comes dear'd, by being lack'd. This common body,
Like to a vagabond flag upon
the stream,

Goes to, and back, lacqueying the varying tide,
To rot itself with motion.

Enter another MESSENGER.

Mess. Cæsar, I bring thee word,
Menecrates, and Menas, famous pirates,

Make the sea serve them; which they ear and wound
With keels of every kind. Many hot inroads
They make in Italy; the borders maritime

Lack blood to think on't, and flush youth revolt:
No vessel can peep forth, but 'tis as soon

Taken as seen; for Pompey's name strikes more
Than could his war resisted.

Oct. Antony,

Leave thy lascivious wassals: When thou once
Wert beaten from Modena, where thou slew'st
Hirtius and Pansa, consuls, at thy heel

Did famine follow; whom thou fought'st against,
Though daintily brought up, with patience more
Than savages could suffer: thou didst drink
The gilded puddle,

Which beasts would cough at: thy palate then did deign

The roughest berry on the rudest hedge;

Yea, like the stag, when snow the pasture sheets,
The barks of trees thou browsed'st: on the Alps,

It is reported, thou didst eat strange flesh,
Which some did die to look on: And all this
(It wounds thine honour that I speak it now)
Was borne so like a soldier, that thy cheek
So much as lank'd not.

Lep. "Tis pity of him.

Oct. Let his shames quickly

Drive him to Rome: Time is it, that we twain
Did show ourselves i' the field; and, to that end,
Assemble we immediate council: Pompey
Thrives in our idleness.

Lep. To-morrow, Cæsar,

I shall be furnish'd to inform you rightly
Both what by sea and land I can be able
To 'front this present time.

Oct. Till which encounter,
It is my business too. Farewell.

Lep. Farewell, my lord: What you shall know mean time

Of stirs abroad, I shall beseech you, sir,

To let me be partaker.

Oct. Doubt not, sir;

I knew it for my bond.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.

Alexandria.

A Room in the Palace.

Enter CLEOPATRA, supporting herself on IRAS;
CHARMIAN and MARDIAN, following.

Cleo. Charmian,—

Char. Madam.